{*DJ cuts "Guess who's back?"*}
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[Fat Joe]
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Yeah..
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The Fat Gangsta..
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Here comes the nigga from the East
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who just been crowned for most hated by police
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The public enemy, rapper at large
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who's known throughout the industry for pullin niggaz cards
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You know the situation, Zulu Nation
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Never forget the Bronx because the Bronx the foundation
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Fat Joe, a.k.a. Joey Crack
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Niggaz be like he's fat, bitches be like he's all that
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Motherfuckers know my rep, I never fronted
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Niggaz be talkin mad shit, but they don't want it
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It's the realer MC, the drug dealer MC
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If a nigga fake jax, I'm gonna kill a MC
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Yeah, you can't handle the truth
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Fuck around and get thrown off the project roof
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Mad lives have been lost and forgotten
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Niggaz better watch they back, the Big Apple's gone rotten
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Microphone check, one two one two
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Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
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Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
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{"That's all I ask of you.."}
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When I step in the jam all eyes are on me
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Sold out crowds, with curiosity
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Everybody wants to know, could the man still flip it?
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Microphone gifted, unrealistic
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Comin with the bomb bass for the underground heads
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Flex got the most, Serge got the landspread
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Keepin shit real, niggaz know the deal
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Just through trial and comin down on appeal
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Microphone Joe I own it, bitches wanna bone it
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Blowin out the tweeters in your musical component
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It's your man Fat Joe, oh, is that so?
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You remember me from, "You know ya got to Flow"
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One time for your mind off the top of a dome
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Never leave for home without the motherfuckin chrome
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Word to Tone, Big Daddy, I know he's chillin
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Peace to all the villains out of state makin millions cause ah
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Microphone check, one two one two
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Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
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Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
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{"That's all I ask of you.."}
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Microphone check, one two one two
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Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
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Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
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{"That's all I ask of you.."}
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From the Bronx to Queensbridge, on back to Redhook
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Never lost a gram on any eighth that I cooked
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Fat Joe, army fatigue and black chuckers
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Hardcore lyrics to all my real motherfuckers
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I'm tryin to see cream, in the millions, retire
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and go play golf with Russell Simmons
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That's the type of mission that I'm on
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Aiyyo my word is bond, I keep a army just as deep as Farrakhan
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You.. can't.. deal with the man
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who be holdin down the fort with the gauge in his hand
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I know you love the way I grab the mic and spark it
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You hookers'll NEVER get your hands inside my pockets
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Microphone check, one two one two
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Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
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Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
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{"That's all I ask of you.."}
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Microphone check, one two one two
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Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
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Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
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{"That's all I ask of you.."}
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{*"Everybody knows Fat Joe's in town.."*}
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-----------------
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Fat Joe's in Town
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Fat Joe |